RobertWService.Com

I wronged her, yet it's sadly true
      She wanted to be wronged:
They mostly do, although 'tis you,
      The male bloke who is thonged.
Well, anyway I left her then
      To sail across the sea,
And no doubt she had other men,
      And soon lost sight of me.

So now she is a paunchy dame
      And mistress of the inn,
With temper tart and tounge to blame,
      Moustache and triple chin.
And though I have no proper home
      Contentedly I purr,
And from my whiskers wipe the foam,
      --Glad I did not wed her.

Yet it's so funny sitting here
      To stare into her face;
And as I raise my mug of beer
      I dream of our disgrace.
And so I come and come each day
      To more and more enjoy
The joke--that fifty years away
      I was her honey boy.